Chicken Up (Tanjong Pagar)

Tanjong Pagar teems with casual places of the Korean chicken wing variety. But nowhere gets a queue like Chicken Up. At dinner time, you’re looking at a 45-minute wait before you speak to a human: there’s a touchscreen podium to get in line and you get a text when your table is ready. (To be fair, the humans do a valiant job once you’re actually seated.) If you are willing to go to these lengths for a food fetish, read on. The grub is technically sound: the meat is allegedly marinated for twelve hours and then cooked using the venerated Korean double-fry method. The exterior is crunchy, the inside moist, pleasantly juicy; and it’s not overly sauced. The sauces themselves are not much to write home about, though. But if you think you have more discerning taste buds than us after a deceptively light watermelon soju punchbowl ($30)—or if you’re a small group—get the buffet ($25 per person) where they bring out a piece each of three varieties such as YangNyum (coated with a sweet-spicy sauce and sprinkled with sesame seeds) and soya. Avoid the forgettable non-essential dishes like the starchy Andong chicken stew (comes with the buffet or $48 for two people) and the tofu salad ($12). All in all, fried chicken nerds and large, drunken groups will enjoy this place. We might just be getting too old for the whole clucking circus.

Tanjong Pagar teems with casual places of the Korean chicken wing variety. But nowhere gets a queue like Chicken Up. At dinner time, you’re looking at a 45-minute wait before you speak to a human: there’s a touchscreen podium to get in line and you get a text when your table is ready. (To be fair, the humans do a valiant job once you’re actually seated.) If you are willing to go to these lengths for a food fetish, read on. The grub is technically sound: the meat is allegedly marinated for twelve hours and then cooked using the venerated Korean double-fry method. The exterior is crunchy, the inside moist, pleasantly juicy; and it’s not overly sauced. The sauces themselves are not much to write home about, though. But if you think you have more discerning taste buds than us after a deceptively light watermelon soju punchbowl ($30)—or if you’re a small group—get the buffet ($25 per person) where they bring out a piece each of three varieties such as YangNyum (coated with a sweet-spicy sauce and sprinkled with sesame seeds) and soya. Avoid the forgettable non-essential dishes like the starchy Andong chicken stew (comes with the buffet or $48 for two people) and the tofu salad ($12). All in all, fried chicken nerds and large, drunken groups will enjoy this place. We might just be getting too old for the whole clucking circus.